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Hustling
Disabled and Black: a queer, autistic anthology Living as an autistic kid in a difficult neighborhood is all about being able to either blend in, or 'quirk out'. Either, you need to be able to blend within the herd, hide your autistic traits or you revel in your quirks and develop strengths, while evading ridicule for your deficiencies By the time I was in the 4th grade, I was getting top marks in almost all classes, but I was still having embarassing toilet issues. (When did I start to be a girl? - I think from the moment I understood what girls were. at least in my neurovague concept of gender) I thought cats were girls and dogs were boys. I loved dogs more than most boys, but I was much more like a cat myself. I liked that they didn't need too much attention, and when they do want it, they are direct and compelling in their approach. ^)^ Unfortunately, as much as I loved girls and identified with them, I was barred access to that realm, so I was forced to hustle my way through recess and lunch without anyone realising I was either gay or trans. The Pageant A black market beauty pageant in grade school was my first major hustle. I offered the grade the opportunity to all vote for the prettiest classmate, and collected the votes into a lolly container. But when the vote came in, I threw in an extra three votes for a girl named Abby*, who I loved but then broke up with me after a brief romance. I responded bitterly and spread crude lies about her, and I credit this as my first major sin in life. * not her real name. Grade school hustler Hustling became my M.O., I was always coming up with new games, new ideas, trying to build social capital in order to avoid being alienated for my communication differences. I became the "playground clown", willing to do anything she was dared to, even if it got me in a lot of trouble. But inside the class, I was more of a teacher's pet, always hustlin' to get that next level of academic achievement, ready to improve upon my strengths so that my perceived weaknesses will never hold me back. So, we specialise. We become the "Aspies" out of the Autie group, the technicians and hackers. The quantum physicists and psychic healers. We develop our strengths beyond prior limitations and attain mastery of our autism - so-called "autistic savants". The designation of "savantism" is implicitly neurosupremacist. It implies a "non-savantism" -- as though the depth of an autist's mental capacity can be measured externally, when the complexity of the neuroses for less verbal autists is not implicitly less valuable simply because it is not directly communicable. We see in Stephen Hawking's case that his reduced verbality did not halter his scientific nor popular impact despite the large communication barriers it did present. High school hustles The scope of my grade school hustles were vast. Whatever the new merchandise was, I found a way to ship it. Whether it was perfumed flower buds (a childish knock-off of 'pot pourri', which probably cost more in mum's perfume than the 50c I was asking) or shiny bike valve caps (able to sell for up to $5 for the best ones). However, in high school I didn't want to be seen as the ghetto kid anymore. I tried to clean up, had a bit more of an allowance now to afford lunches etc. and I no longer felt like the "playground clown" thing was really my style. Plus, the bullies in high school were operating on a whole different level to what I was used to and I didn't want to put myself out as a target. So, for a time, the hustling died down. I ran a few little games here and there to raise social capital. Made friends with different groups (after rehearsing everyone's names using the school photo to counter-act my poor facial memory). I focussed on socialising my way out of the alienation I experienced in primary school. Little did I know that my alienation was not going to be healed by puberty, but would rather be reinforced by it. To distract myself from my ever-more obvious fate of a school career defined by being misgendered and stereotyped as a social misfit, I started to pick up a few hustles again around the ninth grade. I became the Soft-drink Emperess of the playground. I ran a deal for $1 canned drinks, guaranteed cold all day, and more than 30% cheaper than what the canteen was offering. I carried three 18-can packets to school each morning, taking advantage of a "18 for $3.98" deal that gave me $42 of profit each day if I sold them all myself. Within weeks I had a multi-person operation running, supplying the whole school with counterfeit cola. I tried to act comfortable with it, but deep down I was ashamed. I'd once again given up on being accepted as a girl and instead settled for being a quirky, unpredictable ghetto kid. Jumping right into every stereotype they had of me. Never mind that I was in the top of my classes again, not just in Maths and Science, but in English and Drama too. People's perceptions of me wouldn't seem to change, even as I disproved their prejudices again and again. It felt like instead of ever getting a response of understanding, it was always an acceptance and "tolerance" for my diversity as an individual, but still a persistence in seeing me as being fundamentally primitive for my lack of whyte civil standards - my "ghettoness". The Solar hustle By the time I was finishing school I knew there were problems in the world bigger than anything we've ever dealt with, and I felt like even though I loved Drama and musical theatre and film-making, that my best talents lay in technical fields and that I could research something big enough to change the world. I flipped through a book of courses and their admissions barrier and stumbled upon a field of "Photovoltaics": the conversion of light into electricity - solar power. Quantum hustler Going deeper, went into the atomic and quantum realm. Hustled my way into a PhD. Got to manipulate single quantum particles for four years. Realised I was autistic. Unfortunately, not before having decided years prior that I was just a defective sub-human and going on a self-loathing spiral of abusive, toxic behaviour. Then the quantum awakening of bush doof culture. Slowly realising I was trans, etc. And a few more years and here we are, with my frantically writing this wiki each night (tonight is a full moon in Scorpio ps) and hoping somehow that my journey will have meaning to someone even if I never get to see that meaning realised. xCategory:Poverty Category:2018 Journals